forum A Thousand Cranes // Rated PG-15 // Eris

Started November 30, 2018 by @EternallyEris

tune

I blink at the space she was occupying, and it takes me a second to realize what she just said. Family is the most important. This stings more than it should. I’ve never had that thought. Ever. Family is a foreign concept to me. Something very strange happens in my heart. It tightens with a longing so severe I fear it might crack from the strain. It feels very uneasy and unknown and I try to ignore it and concentrate on the glass with the delectable smoothie in it instead. If it is even half as good as the ice cream she gave me yesterday, I am doomed indeed.

I am blissfully alone. Emmy has left me here without worried looks or requests for reassurance. She hasn’t even badgered me about how I’m feeling. The trust she shows with this is staggering. Suddenly I know what it is about her that makes me feel somewhat safer around in her presence. She treats me like a human being, and more importantly, she treats me my age. She doesn't belittle me. Is that why I am so at ease? I decide I'll think more about that when I have time because right now, there is a smoothie with my name on it, and it demands to be drunk.

I gingerly lift the glass and let the wonderful, wonderful fluid glide down my throat. Mmmm. Strawberries. Raspberries. Sweet heavens, I didn't know a taste like this could even exist.

Before I can finish my glass, I hear a car coming up the driveway. Without thinking, I put the glass back down on the breakfast bar and wait for the driver to enter the house. It's an automatic reaction. Freeze and wait to see which way the wind is blowing whenever William comes home. If it was blowing wrong, I would usually be in a world of trouble when he walked in no matter what I was doing. If it was right, well I’d still be wrong no matter what. It just happened to hurt less.

While I am waiting, I can still taste the wonderful smoothie on my tongue and I find I am quite annoyed with the fact that yet again, I am disturbed whilst eating. I know this is entirely my own fault and my own problem; still I cannot seem to be any different. Different is bad.

Just as I realize that I can, in fact, leave the room because I probably do not have to wait for whoever is entering the house, even though my body is screaming for me not to turn my back to the door and go up to hide in my room, I hear footsteps on the porch, a door opening and an unfamiliar feminine voice calling out, "Hello? Anybody home?"

My head tweaks to the side. Who is that? Before I can do anything or even think about moving, a blond girl bounces into the kitchen, and we are both equally surprised when we see each other.

"Oh!" She squeals. Good lord who squeals like a five-year-old? I fight the urge to cover my ears, but I am at a loss as to what to do. Is this girl supposed to be here? I can't call Emmy to ask for help and surely it would be very rude if I just left the kitchen altogether. Every ounce of anxiety that had previously finally left my body is back tenfold and I tense up, not knowing what to do. My muscles protest as they once more go rigid without volition. The girl stands in front of me and we clearly both don't know what to do. I wring my hands in my sweater sleeves. It hurts a little, but the pain is distracting.

Finally, she speaks somewhat annoyed. "Hi. I'm sorry, I don't know who you are."

Well, that goes both ways. Her voice is very high and unpleasant to listen to. Fact remains I cannot answer her. So, I raise my
eyebrows with a small tilt of my head in recognition of her statement and then look down at my half full glass of smoothie. I keep her in my peripheral just, so I know she’s not intending on any funny business.

We stand there awkwardly, and the atmosphere is tensing up further at rapid speed. She’s just staring at me. Jezz. Should I get Emmy? I'm assuming this girl has a right to be in the house, otherwise you wouldn’t just step up the porch like she did. She must be familiar with the family. Maybe a cousin? Friend? For some reason I can’t imagine her being friends with Iona. They just don’t seem to match, but opposites attract, don’t they?

"You could start by introducing yourself," she then deadpans. I look up at her again, meeting hazel eyes that are narrowed slightly. How do I convey that I can’t? I should just leave. Damn being polite. I grip the glass of smoothie and start to turn away from the girl just as she starts to speak again, “Hellooooooo?” She’s looking at me incredulously. I raise my eyebrows again. Yes, I can hear you. Can I speak? No. Moving on. I continue my escape out of the kitchen while keeping an eye on her. She purses her lips in annoyance. “Ugh. Okay, whatever. So, is anybody home?" She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear in an insecure and frustrated gesture.

This is a question that I can answer. Ever so slightly, I nod, once. I consider moving a little faster and to go stand behind the breakfast bar, but maybe that would be a little conspicuous. Her agitation is making me nervous and I don’t know how to fix it. I’m sure that this girl can’t use sign language so why even bother? For the first time probably ever, I wish that she would keep asking me questions, so I can answer them with a nod or a shake. I just want to diffuse the tension before it reaches a breaking point. I try to begin my escape again, but she takes a step towards me and I know it’s futile. She will just follow me if I walk out. I put my glass of shake down and sigh quietly, praying Emmy will come rescue me.

Or a meteor comes and crashing into the kitchen. Either or will work.

The girl is losing her patience now and rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, you can, like, speak to me, you know?"

Shit. I look at her again and then suddenly comprehension dawns. Could she be Declan’s girlfriend, Lola? She must be. Who else would visit this house and enter like she's been here a thousand times before? Interesting taste the man has, but who am I to judge?

"Wow," she mutters under her breath. Then she looks at me and says very loudly, while articulating in an exaggerated manner and pointing at her ears, "Are you deaf?"

I almost smile at how ridiculous she looks but decide against it and shake my head. Where is Emmy when you really need her?

sips tea and rereads this beautiful work of art for the fifth time

(WOOT WOOT 100 POSTS BB)

(That was to this. And I have more to read! What glory!)

The girl I think is Lola rolls her eyes once again and this time her whole head moves with it, her hands lifting in exasperation. I can't really blame her. People tend to have these types of reactions around me when they meet me for the first time. I shuffle my feet and look down, suddenly feeling guilty about how I make others feel around me. I’m not doing it on purpose. I’m trying so hard to be good…

"Then why won't you speak? Do you have sore throat or something?" she adds, looking at my scarf now.

Oh, good she gives me an out. I think it's safe enough to go with that, so I nod. Yes.

"Ah," the blond sighs, annoyed. "Could have said so. So, is anybody home? Is Declan here?"

I don't know the answers that she need so I shrug. I’ve been slowly inching away from her as her agitation grew, hoping she wouldn’t notice, but I’m still not close enough to the kitchen door to slip out quickly enough so she can’t stop me.

I’m about to bolt when we hear footsteps coming down the hall and finally, finally Emmy comes through the door with an empty platter in her hands. "Why, hello Lola. What a surprise," she says pleasantly, but vacantly, before she looks at me and then back at Lola again. "I see you have met Cassia?"

Lola — indeed — looks at Emmy with a questioning look in her eyes. "Cassia?"

"Yes, didn't Declan tell you? Cassia has come to live with us. As part of the family."

Lola looks dumbfounded but is apparently not at a loss for words, and she certainly doesn't know when it's time to stop talking. "I'm sorry, what?"

If Emmy is surprised about Lola’s oblivion, she doesn't show it. "Cassia is the newest member of our household. She has come into our foster care yesterday. Cassia, this is Lola. She's Declan’s girlfriend, so you'll see her around here every now and again."

I had deduced as much, but I still nod. I try not to think about what Declan sees in Lola. Obviously, I know nothing of that stuff, so I shouldn't bother with it.

"Foster care?" Lola says then, incredulously. "Isn't she a little old for that?"

Hello.
Hi.
I’m still standing right here, Blondie.
I will count to ten and then I will leave.

Emmy raises her eyebrows at Lola’s question. Finally, I see a spark of coldness in Emmy’s warm exterior. I’m shocked. I thought nothing could get to this woman but apparently a high school aged blonde with a whiney voice is enough. "No, Lola, she is not too old for that. She is seventeen and she needed a home, which we gladly provided for her."

One…

"Wow," Lola breathes, turning to me with a hand on one hip. "So, you're, like, abused or something?"

The room freezes. Emmy is shock still, her eyes wide.

I do not like the eagerness in her voice when she asks this, and I certainly do not like this line of questioning. I flinch at her words and look down, rapidly retreating to the refuge of my mind. Fuck this. I'm not even going to count to three. I won't make it until two. Would it be rude if I just left the kitchen? I gauge the distance between myself and the doorway and debate bolting right this second, but I do not want Emmy to think I’m rude.

"That's none of your business," Emmy says flatly, icy eyes flashing and now I am sure that I was right to assume that she is not very fond of this girl.

I clench my fists now, nails digging into the skin of my palms. The pain distracts me from my heart, which is picking up speed at an alarming rate. I hold my breath to try and calm it down. I cannot break down now. I might as well shout it off the rooftops then how fucked I am in the head.

"Did Declan know you were coming over? I think he is upstairs." Emmy’s words sound muffled, like they come from another room. I'm retreating further into my mind.

"He is right here," I hear his voice just before he steps into the kitchen, and I am ripped violently from the sanctuary of my mind and again painfully aware of what is happening around me. I need air. I suck in a shaky breath, which draws an alarmed look from both Emmy and Declan as he moves by me, but they both refocus on Lola.

Declan is taller than I remember from last night. When I glance at him from the corner of my eye I see that his inky hair is a complete mess and as he rakes a hand through it, tugging at it a little before he lets it go, I can understand why. Lola makes me want to pull my hair out too.

This time, I do move to go stand beside the door. I'm afraid he will be pissed with me for how I behaved last night, and overall, I just feel safer with the barrier of the island between me and everyone else. Especially now. Damn it.

Lola, in the meantime, has flitted over to Declan and nearly knocks him off balance with the force of her hug. He returns it, using only one arm and the entire thing looks uncomfortably awkward. Then again, I know nothing really about love so I shouldn't even try to put labels to what I see.

It's stressful enough that apparently, I'll get to see a permanent live show of public displays of affection in this house. I can feel the worry on my face. I’m not sure what I would do if they were to want me to participate in hugs and affectionate touches. I shudder at the thought. There’s no way I can do it.

Declan pulls back from Lola and looks over her shoulder at me. "Hey Cassia," he says hesitantly, and my eyes flash up and meet his for several seconds before I look away again. He's not angry. I can see that in his icy blues. Surprisingly they’re warm and inviting and he’s even smiling a tiny bit. I'm very sure about that, even if I don't have a very clear head right now. I clench my fists a little tighter, deliberately digging my nails into my skin. It burns. Good.

"I just introduced Cassia to Lola," Emmy says in a voice that makes the hairs in my neck stand on end. "It seems that Lola was unaware of Cassia’s arrival."

With a heartbeat that is all but crashing out of my chest, standing in a room full of people who are completely oblivious, I focus very deliberately on keeping my breathing under control. My jaws are clenched together so fiercely my ears ring. Something is going to happen, I can sense it. Here it comes, Emmy is going to show her displeasure and reprimand him and in turn he will blame it on me. I know it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I should have tried to talk to Lola more. I should have been more welcoming. I should have been more anything.

"Um, yeah," Declan frowns and a hand pulls through his hair again. He's obviously not going to give more of an answer, and he's not afraid of Emmy. He's not afraid? That's… confusing. She’s about to explode. Right? I’m so confused. She looks remarkably calm except for the single blonde brow that is arched at Declan. Her arms are crossed on her chest and the one hand that I can see is clenched tightly into a fist. I could be watching a tennis match as my head is shifting from looking at Emmy to Declan and back again. Keeping tabs. I need to be prepared should someone lash out. Instead, Declan looks down at Lola with a shadow of a frown flickering across his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Surprise!" she squeals, and she even makes jazz hands to emphasize her outburst.

Declan smiles at her, but it’s forced. "Hey, why don't you go to my room, I'll bring us some drinks, okay?"

Lola looks up at him. "Why didn't you tell me about her?" she asks, jerking her head in my direction at the last word.

I’m. Still. Here. Blondie. Christ.

"We'll talk about it later. Just go upstairs," he sighs, nodding his head into the direction of the stairs. Lola finally concedes, blonde hair bobbing around her, as she throws a sour "bye!" over her shoulder and saunters off.

I stare after her and I'm not sure what I should think, so I settle on being confused. It's all I feel lately, it seems. Shit, I need to breathe. Again, I am rigid with anticipation. Okay, now that Lola is gone the arguing will begin. I take a tiny breath to steady myself.

"Declan James, you didn't tell her?" Emmy asks, and I can hear disappointment only. There is no anger in her voice.

"Never got to it," he grumbles, avoiding giving a real answer, then walks around the bar to the fridge. I scuttle away from my corner to put some distance between him and me as he moves. Declan looks up at me from his bent position at the fridge and there is something in his eyes I can't really decipher for some reason. It's almost like he is sorry for something. He fills two glasses with soda, studiously ignoring his aunt while he's working.

"You do remember what we discussed about visitors?" Emmy asks carefully. She’s folded her hands carefully on the counter, a picture of calm. Except for the rigid tension in her shoulders and disappointment clear in her eyes.

Declan looks up at me again before shifting his gaze over to his aunt and I can see annoyance flashing across his face, but somehow it seems that this annoyance has nothing to do with Emmy. He stands turning to face her fully scowling, "I didn't know she was coming over, or else I would have prevented it. Now, if you don't mind," he adds, then picks up the glasses and leaves the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

Emmy and I both look after him. "I really don't see what he likes in that girl," she mutters after a moment. "I'm sorry, you never heard me say that," she adds as an afterthought and smiles mischievously at me.

I just look at her, still rigid. I'm fervently trying to think of ways I can leave this kitchen and be on my own to calm down a little. Unfortunately, none come to mind without being considered rude. Thankfully, Emmy saves me again, “Interrupted again while you were eating? Do you want me to leave so you can finish?"

I'm not hungry anymore. I'm actually pretty nauseous after this encounter with Lola and what she said, but mostly the way she said it. I just want to be alone.

I shake my head, stiffly, because my body won't allow movement so much.

"Cassia? Are you okay?"

No, I am not. I swallow thickly and frown. My body begs me to run and I can feel tears of desperation well into my eyes. Wrong wrong wrong. She’s wrong. What she said was all wrong.

"Did Lola upset you, with her question?"

I do not want to talk about this. Ever. I'm breathing very fast now, nostrils flared in the effort to suck in enough air with each breath. My body is preparing itself: fight, or flight.

Emmy looks at me, and her eyes wide open and warm as she regards me. "Don't run," she whispers. She holds her hands out to me almost as if she’s asking me to hug her. "Please don't run away from us."

Her plea confuses me, and I am caught off guard by her posture. It’s so inviting. Something I know I don’t deserve. A single tear slips over. Oh, god. Furiously, I wipe it away roughly with the palm of my hand. Damn this all to hell. I want to run, but where do I go?

Emmy interrupts me by gasping and looking very alarmed. "Cassia, you're bleeding!" She's coming towards before I can even think about moving and she grabs my hand without warning.

I go rigid immediately as I feel her fingers encircle my wrist. This is an all too familiar feeling, and I know all too well what is going to happen next. Disappointment doesn't even begin to cover what I feel right now. I have let them coax me into a feeling of safety and now it's about to be blasted away with the force of ten atomic bombs. I have let down my guard and this is what I get in return. So, she was angry. How could I have been so mistaken?

This cannot be happening. Please, let this not be happening. Emmy holds my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and when I feel her fingers close around my other wrist, every nerve ending in my body switches to high alert. Hyperventilation sets in swiftly. Emmy looks up at me, aghast, and releases my hands immediately. "I'm sorry," she breathes. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. Did I alarm you?"

I pull my hands into my body, almost doubled over them. Protecting them. I let out a wheeze, staring at the ground. She let go. She didn’t hurt me. She let go. My brain seems to stutter on this, but I can still feel the warm imprints of her hands on my wrists. I start to shake and slide towards the ground. Emmy’s legs come into view as she steps closer to me but it’s her hands coming towards me that’s send me into a faster tailspin. I jerk up and meet her startled eyes before I bolt from the kitchen.

I hear her call my name twice before I make it into my room, but I’m too far panicked. Dashing into the room, I slam the door behind me, but I’m still running. I pause to pick up Jackie’s quilt and then I’m hiding beneath it.

In the tub.

In my cocoon I begin to count. Trying to calm down, but it doesn’t help. The numbers stop after 10 but I’m still not breathing right, not thinking right. I soft sob escapes my lips. If the counting doesn’t help what will I do? Panic until I pass out? Wonderful.

My hands are twisted up in each other and the quilt and it hurts. A lot. I let go one finger at a time and slowly put them into their own pockets in my sweater. A crunch alerts me to the fact that there is paper in one pocket. Still shaking, I bring it out to look. It’s a useless scrap of nothing but just big enough for… no. I swore that habit was broken. It hurt too much to watch my dreams be destroyed. I stare at the paper for a few more moments, smoothing it out between my palms. Ah what the hell? I can’t get any worse and hurt and panicked than I am right now. Why stop?

I place the piece of crinkled paper on the side of the tub and begin folding.

Just my semi-daily acknowledgment of how this story moves my heart I guess.

No problem, it’s a pleasure!

Dude you got my hopes up so much. I yelled.

Sometime later I find myself seated within the mountain of pillows that are nestled on my window seat. The view of the forest from here is so pretty that I don’t even blink, afraid that if I do, it will all vanish. My mind can’t see to let go of the fact that all of this is not a dream.

There’s a knock on the door, so soft I'm not even sure I've heard it. The door opens a little and Iona stands in the doorway. "Hi," she smiles, "Can I come in?” Not waiting for my answer, she floats inside and perches at the foot of my bed. Carefully, she folds her lithe form into a comfy position. "How are you?"

My brows come together, and my lips turn down in a dubious look, without any permission from my brain whatsoever. I would have preferred not to respond at all. Iona chuckles when she looks at my face. “I see you’ve met Lola.” She tilts her head to the side sarcastically, her features going from pixie to playfully nasty. “She’s a real peach, ain’t she?”

My right shoulder commits mutiny and lifts slightly in a shrug.

“You don’t have to be nice.” Iona intones, sticking her tongue out. “We all know she’s a nightmare. Even Declan. I’m sure he’s just in it for the p—” She stops, her cheeks going as red as tomatoes. I raise my brows in shock. My, my. What a mouth this girl has. I could almost laugh, because at the end of the day, what she said, would have said anyway, was pretty funny. Vulgar. But funny. An interesting fact that I file away. Declan is a lady’s man. Iona awkwardly clears her throat and chuckles waving her hand as if to brush away a fly. “Nevermind. Declan is Declan and Declan is weird.”

Another half shrug from me and I go back to looking outside. Maybe she will take the que that I’ve done all the talking I can right now.

“Auntie is sorry that she scared you…” Softly, gently, as if talking to a doe about to bolt. Apparently, I need to work on my social ques. I don’t respond, but my hands tighten within my sweater sleeves against my legs.

“You'd think we’d send you away after this?"

Well, yes, actually. I swallow thickly and start to nod, but Iona interrupts me as her eyes go wide and fill with sadness, all traces of banter gone. "You really were scared that you would have to leave?" Her whisper is so soft I can barely hear it over the ringing in my ears from a headache making itself known.

I nod, swallowing again and feeling a lump in my throat that is not just an after effect of the assault from William. I pull up my legs further and wrap my arms around them for comfort, leaning my chin between my knees as I look at Iona. Suddenly feeling all to comfortable that she is here in my space, asking me all these questions that I feel I must answer.

"Oh, Cassia," she whispers, looking as if she wishes she could hug me. Her hands do twitch in her lap and I stiffen. "You've been with us for not two days and we all have come to love you so much. How can you think you would not be welcome here?"
Because I have never been welcomed anywhere before.

I try to hold back a sob when I think that even Jackie got rid of me as fast as she could.

Shit. My mind is a turmoil and I can't control my thoughts, it seems. I snap the rubber band at my wrist to halt that ugly train and prevent breaking down in front of Iona. Again. The sharp pain is refreshing and pulls my mind away from the emotional hurt.

"Cassia, why do you do that?"

I look at Iona, alarmed now. Do I really have to explain that? When I don't speak, Iona once more advocates the uncanny ability I suspect her to have by looking right through me. "Is it to distract yourself from your thoughts?"

I freeze a little as her words cut right through my soul, I can't help it. I’m staring at her with wide eyes. This is entirely not fair. I’ve gone through my entire life with not a single person paying attention to me and now I have a plethora that know exactly how my mind works. How the hell did I end up here?

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to upset you!"

Tears blur my vision. Oooooh no. Nope. No. Stay, you cheeky bastards.

"Iona?" I think that's Emmy calling.

Iona tilts her head towards the door and calls back. "I'm coming! One minute!" Then she turns to me again. I have collected myself in the meantime and look back at her, not sure what to do.

"You okay?" she asks.

I don't know what carelessness has crept into me throughout this entire conversation, but I shrug before I can help myself.

"Yeah, I guess it will be a while," Iona smiles before she gets up. She pauses at the door. "What a weekend, huh?" she chuckles half-heartedly. Then she blows me a kiss, and she disappears from my sight.

Yeah. What a weekend, indeed.

I sit back against the heard board of the bed and let my head loll a bit. Now I've been awake longer, the drowsiness finally seems to ease a little. I listen to the sounds of five other people enjoying a day off and it occurs to me that all seems to be normal. Completely and utterly normal. There is not an ounce of anxiety or stress anywhere in this house, except for me, and that can’t really be helped.

The room I am in is at the end of the hallway, giving me a bit more privacy away from the others. Iona left my door open. Somehow it feels nice, inviting, relaxed, carefree even. This is a very new feeling for me.

A door nearby opens and heavy footsteps trudge out, followed by a pair of lighter ones. I still look through my open door, but all I can see is the opposite wall. I'm pretty sure it's Declan and Lola that just came out of his room.

There’s a soft murmur of voices at the landing and then the heavier footsteps seem to come my way, but before I can see anything, they halt and walk away from me again. I wonder what he would have said to me had he come all the way over. He is the last one to get downstairs, and the hallway is silent once they reach the ground floor and their footsteps die away.

It feels so strange to be listening. I feel like I am spying on this family, watching and hearing them move with such grace and ease. I listen to sounds of breakfast downstairs, and suddenly realize I am ravenously hungry myself.

I'd rather not get out of bed though, not with so many people present downstairs.

As if on cue, I hear someone coming up and before long, Emmy appears in my room again. She's holding a tray with a variety of things on it. I sit up a little, curious, as she approaches me and places the tray on the little table by my window seat.

"You look better," she beams at me. "A little less sleepy, maybe?"

Her sweet smile does something really weird inside my stomach. I can't quite put my finger on it though, so I push it away. I stare at her. Hopefully, I’m expressionless. I honestly couldn’t tell anymore since they all seem to read me so well.

Emmy sits on the very edge of the pile of pillows, intentionally in my bubble of personal space, but oddly I don’t really mind right now. She points at the tray. "Meds, oatmeal, fluid food, milk." She looks up at me. "I know you hate the fluid food, but you need it. You have eaten not nearly enough over the last days. The oatmeal is still warm, I was hoping you'd like that. You can add more sugar if you want to."

Oatmeal… my mother used to make that for me when I was little. When she was still around. Before Peter even looked at me. I swallow at the memory. Emmy sees me looking at the food and stands up again. I lean away from her — it's pure automatism. I don't like it when people are standing over me. It makes me feel very vulnerable indeed.

She only pauses for a moment before gesturing to the phone that was lying next to the assortment of breakfast foods. Very reluctantly, I reach out and pick up the phone. Or, I actually snatch it from the tray, as I'm anxious to be out of her reach as soon as possible again.

This is so utterly ridiculous for so many reasons.

I see the question in Emmy’s eyes, but she doesn't ask what's on her mind. Good. Like I would be able to explain it without sounding like a lunatic.
As my mind is getting clearer, I am becoming more and more aware of her presence so near me and I start to tense up little by little. I don't like it. At all. I look at the phone, then at Emmy. The phone feels heavy and cool in my hand. I have an inkling what she'll want with this, but I wait for her to say it. Just…Just to be sure.

"I want you to use this if you need me," She says adjusting into a more comfortable position. I am now farther from her and it helps me relax, but only marginally. "All our numbers are saved in there already. You can text me, or anyone for help should you need it. I’ll be starting ASL lessons with the family soon, so we can all communicate efficiently, okay?” I say nothing. Mostly because I am so overwhelmed by the kind gesture that I can only stare at the glossy screen of the phone. I can see my reflection in it.

I look away, back to the forest.

“You know how to text?" Emmy asks, a little too quietly. Great she misread my discomfort. God, I'm mute, not stupid. I cut a side glace to her.

She sees my indignation and chuckles. "I'm sorry," She is sincere. "You didn't bring a phone with you here, so forgive me for assuming. I just wanted to help you out. I'm not going to be sitting at your bed the entire day, and I have a feeling you don't need that, either."

I can't help but be relieved, but there's another worry nagging in my mind. Don't I have to make myself useful in some way? I'll have to do my part in the housekeeping, don't I? I feel so much better than yesterday, surely, I can get up and help? How long are they going to accept me lying on my ass and being served breakfast in bed?

Emmy seems to see my worrying, because she shifts more into my line of sight, coming just a tad closer once more. "I know you hate it, but please tell me what's on your mind. We want to make you happy here, but you're going to have to help us."

I look at the phone, and I look at her. I'm tempted to refuse, but then again, I don't want to upset her. I replace the phone on the tray and frown, thinking hard of what exactly I need to say. Scrunching my fingers in preparation for using them to sign. It hurts just a bit.

Emmy waits patiently. Downstairs, I can hear people moving around, chairs scraping on the floor.

After long seconds of hesitation, I look up from my bruised fingers. I can't form the words. I don't know how to say what I feel or what my fears are. No, definitely not those. It'll give her a nice arsenal of weapons should she be so inclined as to use them against me and she knows far too much about my weaknesses as of yet.

"No?" she asks kindly. It sounds like a reassurance.

I shake my head. No.

"Okay," Emmy nods. "I'm very happy that you tried. I'll go downstairs and get that unruly bunch to keep calm and relaxed. You eat in the meantime. And, maybe you can try to think what your worries were just now? We can chat later. Just us."

Emmy doesn't linger, but with a gentle smile and a wink, she leaves me with both my food and my thoughts to chew on.